


the way you look at me

by plinys



Category: Star Trek
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-13 00:29:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19240180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: Waking up early is a norm for Spock, even on days delegated to relaxation or shore leave. Normally he would rise from bed promptly upon awakening and go about his morning routine. A light meditation, a small breakfast, business as usual. Except this time Spock is not alone in bed, and the thought of disturbing his sleeping companion is one that he wavers on.





	the way you look at me

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is brought to you by “Where No Man Has Gone Before”, a research project at the University of Oxford to document the history of the Kirk/Spock fandom as a social, cultural, and literary movement.
> 
> This research is being conducted by Shari Landa (shari.landa@some.ox.ac.uk). Please scroll to the chapter endnotes for more information and to see how you can get involved!

It is not often that they have a moment like this.

An easy morning, with real light, from a real sun shining in through the morning. 

Waking up early is a norm for Spock, even on days delegated to relaxation or shore leave. Normally he would rise from bed promptly upon awakening and go about his morning routine. A light meditation, a small breakfast, business as usual. Except this time Spock is not alone in bed, and the thought of disturbing his sleeping companion is one that he wavers on. 

“T’hy’la,” Spock says softly, unable to hide the note of affection from his tone, half attempting to prompt Jim into wakefulness, half just wanting to say the word again. 

It’s still new on his tongue.

Though it’s been in his mind far longer that he would readily admit to anyone other than the man currently sleeping next to him.

He can feel Jim so clearly now, the way he stirs between sleep and the beginnings of wakefulness, shifting so that he is pressed closer to Spock, and settles back to sleep. Jim is clingy in his sleep, something that Spock would not mind having more chances to experience.

Their beds on the Enterprise not exactly conducive to cuddling, bunks meant for one, not for a bonded pair that relished the few consistent moments that they had together. Of course, between the various incidents that had incurred during their five year mission, the need to take differing shifts as captain and commander, and just a lack of time - it had been hard for them to even just find a moment of peace.

Which is why they had relished the opportunity to finally have a night together in a bed that was truly big enough for two with plush white sheets that had been kicked off early on during the night’s activities. 

It wasn’t shore leave.

Not really, not properly. 

There would be meetings tomorrow, important ones, where they would stand side by side as captain and commander, not as a bonded pair. However, that is tomorrow, whereas today… Today he has nothing more to do than enjoy the feeling of his T’hy’la beside him and the soft morning sun. 

It has been so long since they were back here. Long enough that when they had first arrived back on Earth, Jim had joked that he couldn’t remember when the last time he had been _home_ was. Before Jim had stubbornly insisted that he didn’t feel any homesickness. Always the stubborn one. 

Homesickness.

A sentiment that Spock understood certainly, but did not feel in the same way that Jim did. 

It was not that he did not miss Vulcan, or even that there was not a small hint of comfort at the sight of the Starfleet Academy that he had spent many years at before going off to explore uncharted space. Still, he did not feel homesickness, could not, because his  _ home  _ was wherever his T’hy’la. 

Currently that meant curled up close enough against him that Spock couldn’t imagine ever wanting to get out of bed. He should get out of bed, start his morning routine, meditate, get dressed, maybe go and find them a small breakfast while Jim continued to get the sleep that he clearly needs. 

Spock is all too well aware of how tense Jim has been lately, his worries about the impending meetings, Spock can feel his tension through their bond. Has felt it for the last few days. However now - as Spock slides his hand up from the back of Jim’s sleep shirt to the warm skin at the back of his neck, the pads of his fingertips brushing against the curve of an ear, the soft press of Jim’s cheek - all he can feel from the man in his arms is peace. 

Spock focuses on that feeling for a moment, centering himself in it, almost like mediation, though he’s not in the proper position or mindset to do so. Instead, letting his thoughts be consumed by the feeling of Jim here with him. The casual intimacy, easy to be shared here, in a place that belongs just to them, just for this moment. Spock breathes in, and then out again, focusing purely on Jim and what he feels for him. 

Love.

But so much deeper than that.

In a way that cannot even be put into words.

He feels Jim in his very soul. 

Constant and real and there. 

A comfort that he had spent far too long without. 

That he could never imagine being without again. 

The awareness of what Jim is feeling, given to them by the bond, has been helpful, both in personal and professional circumstances. Though he remembers all too well the way Jim’s lips would turn up in faux annoyance whenever Spock used their bond to his advantage while on the bridge, sensing Jim’s needs and thoughts before the rest of the crew even had a chance to. 

Though now realizing into it, the bond is most useful in letting him know that his soft touches did not go unnoticed by his no longer sleeping compain. He feels the tendrils of Jim waking up properly first, the emotional awareness, coming before the soft hum of Jim finding his voice once again in the morning light. He’s still curled there against Spock’s side, not actually making an effort to get up, but still there, shifting slightly when Spock’s hand slips back down away from Jim’s face, intending to settle on his back once more.

He’s stopped before he can. Jim’s hand against his, holding him in place, sliding their hands together, palm to palm, so that Spock feels so much more than just the flickers of emotions from when Jim had been sleeping beside him.

There’s been no one else like this before, nobody quite like Jim, who feels every single one of his emotions so intently that Spock could drown in them, could lose himself in the various depths of Jim, if only he were ever to give into the urge to do so. Jim is loud inside of his head, and for a moment Spock can see the flashes of the dream that Jim had been having moments before. 

Of the two of them, together, in some place where nobody in the universe knew their names. Where they could just be Jim and Spock without any obligations or duties to get between them. Waves of peacefulness, the sign of a good dream washes over him, making Spock almost want what Jim had dreamed up.

It is an irrational thought, an illogical one, he knows that. Knows that they are here in San Francisco to have meetings with other Captains and Commanders, to do their duty to Starfleet. But there is power in the dream that Jim still clings to ever so slightly. To the image of wandering through the city without a thought or care for their duties. 

Jim may be a bad influence on him after all.

But Spock does not mind. 

Cannot. 

Their hands slide apart and the spell is broken, Spock’s eyes that had slid shut of their own accord, open back up now, settle on Jim who has rolled away just slightly to look up at him with that unexplainably fond look on his face, hair messy from sleep, redness on his cheek from where he has pressed himself too tightly against Spock’s side.

When Jim’s fond smile turns to something a bit more smug, Spock becomes aware that there’s no way that their bond didn’t show Jim just how much his sleepy look had affected Spock. Before he might have apologized for that, early on in their bond, when even though they occasionally shared a bond, even though they had kissed plenty of times both the human and Vulcan ways, he still felt as if he ought to keep some of his more intimate thoughts to himself. 

“Good morning,” Jim says slowly, drawing out the words.

Somehow making poetry out of two little words.

“Good morning, T’hy’la.”

Jim’s soft hum, the note of affection that follows, is easy to sense over their bond. 

“What’s the plan for the day,” Jim asks, sitting up a little, and Spock mirrors his movements a second later. “I’m sure you’ve got a whole schedule for the day planned out alright, so what’s first on the itinerary.”

He’s not completely wrong.

Normally given the extra time between their waking up Spock would have made a plan for the day, but this time he had been  _ distracted _ .

Certainly they should get up, should get going, should find some way to spend the day, meet up with acquaintances from their academy days or other ship’s command staff, but technically there isn’t anything specific on their schedule until this evening, and here in bed with Jim warm and wanting beside him, it’s hard to find a reason to get out of bed.

“I was thinking that instead we could spend the day here,” Spock suggests.

Casual almost. 

Though he feels something most certainly not  _ casual _ .

Especially when Jim smiles at him like that, like he can read between the lines all too easily, see exactly what it is that Spock wants - that Spock  _ needs _ . 

When Jim surges up to kiss Spock an instant later, the  _ human _ way, all too eager, with his happiness and want spilling over their bond. Spock lets Jim take control in this kiss, focuses instead on the feedback that she gets from the man in his arms, the over pouring of emotions, a sensation like sparks against his skin at every point where he and Jim touch. 

Due to their mental link, he can tell immediately what Jim wants, shifting backwards, and using his hands to guide them into position, so that Spock is back against the headboard and Jim can easily straddle him. 

They split apart just for an instant and Spock is momentarily caught up at the sight before him. Jim no longer sleepy at all, instead his eyes are bright and awake, sparkling as they meet Spock’s. The sunlight from their hotel room window seems to catch Jim’s hair just right, making the golden hues seem brighter and almost ethereal. 

He can sense Jim’s pleasure at his assessment through there bond. He can sense everything so innately it is a wonder that he does not completely lose himself here. Caught up in feeling both of their arousals. Caught up in everything that Jim has to offer him. 

This time he is the one to initiate the kiss, needing the distraction from Jim looking down on him like that. It’s briefer than the first, not a caste thing certainly, there is fire behind the kiss, but also an eagerness to do so much more than just kiss. 

And when Jim breaks apart from the kiss just enough to whisper the words “Good Morning” against Spock’s lips, before moving to rid them of the few layers still separating them, Spock takes that as proof that he’s made the right decision for the day’s plans. 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

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